


Traditions and Conventions

by marchionessofblackadder



Series: A Crown of Roses [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchionessofblackadder/pseuds/marchionessofblackadder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They go in search of a suitable gown and a truly noble cleric to officiate. The carriage ride is cut short when they cross paths with Robin Hood again, who can actually help them procure one of the things they're looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Traditions and Conventions

**Author's Note:**

> A special thanks to Repeatinglitanies!

Belle was uncomfortable, and it was, for a change, not because of the silk veil that she could no longer remove from her head. Instead, she was shivering uncontrollably beneath the blanket Rumpelstiltskin had given her upon climbing up into his carriage, and the forced silence between them was too heavy to carry. She was grateful, at least, he’d chosen to sit beside her and not across from her. She wasn’t nearly ready to talk to him again after the night before, though half of that was her own fault, feeling foolish for her romantic ideas and her childishness.

Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One, was once again offering her help, just as he had with the ogres.

It was a deal, and nothing more.

The search for a wedding gown and a cleric was a cold subject that neither wanted to talk about, and Belle herself wished she could go back to bed. Sleeping was difficult with the pointy golden roses of the veil’s laurel, and she hadn’t been able to truly rest.

Rumpelstiltskin continued to act flighty and skittish whenever she met his gaze, though he seemed just as reluctant to offer any words to her as she was to him. Were all betrothed couples so…

Thinking on Gaston, Belle couldn’t remember truly what it had been like being engaged to him. It had always seemed as if he was just there. She neither loved nor hated him, and it made her sad to think she could be so unfeeling to someone. It was hard to produce deep emotion for someone who couldn’t offer it back to her. She did consider him a friend, perhaps even family considering they grew up together.

The idea that such distance could grow between her and Rumpelstiltskin made Belle choke. If she was to spend the rest of her life with this man, she couldn’t bear his indifference to her, or to their relationship.

Making up her mind, Belle shifted in her seat to see him, murmuring, “Rumpelstiltskin?”

The sorcerer nearly jumped out of the carriage at her tentative voice, and looked at her as if he expected to be struck. Belle swallowed, not sure where to begin. She couldn’t apologize, for there was nothing to apologize for… on both their parts. He had made her feel like a child, but she had truly acted like a child out of inexperience.

Moving her gloved hands out of the blanket, she reached and took his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Thank you for helping me,” she said softly.

Rumpelstiltskin looked as though he had been struck, then, and let his gaze fall down to their hands upon his leg. When he didn’t say anything, Belle decided to breach the gap and scooted closer to him, tossing the edge of the blanket from beneath her thigh over his lap. With a bit of shifting on both their parts, their legs were pressed together, and she found herself much warmer.

Finally lifting his face to hers, which was much closer than before, he looked at her shyly, his eyes drifting up to her hair. He lifted his free hand to touch the golden roses on her crown, asking quietly, “Does it hurt?”

Belle gave a little half smile and laid her head upon his shoulder. “Only when I try to sleep.” She felt his shoulders tense beneath her cheek, and after they settled more into the rocking of the carriage, he began to relax, their hands still clasped under the blanket.

It wasn’t comfortable, still, but Belle found him to be a steady source of balance against the carriage’s rhythm, and she almost fell asleep when Rumpelstiltskin suddenly sat forward and threw his hand up. The carriage halted to a sudden stop, and Belle slumped back against the cushion, her eyes wide as she watched the imp disentangle himself from the blanket and step out of the carriage.

Watching him with his back to her, Belle moved to where he’d been sitting. “Rumpel-”

“Stay here, Belle.”

That low level of his voice made her shiver, but it was the use of her name that ground her to the spot. She watched with wide eyes as he stepped away from the carriage without a driver, the scaly mantle of his coat shining under the dripping rain from the trees above.

When he spoke again, his voice was the same eerie, high pitched giggle she’d first heard him use in the war room with the ogres at their door. “Come on out, dearie. Haven’t got all day.”

At first, nothing seemed to happen, but when Belle let her eyes adjust to the stillness of the woods, she saw shadows peel themselves from the trees and woods to step out onto the path, all around the carriage and Rumpelstiltskin. Her heart hammering in her throat, Belle was sure there would be no coming out of this with clean hands when the leader pushed back his hood to reveal the most familiar face.

“What brings you into my woods, beast?” the man asked, his hard eyes and chiseled face slick with rain.

Belle couldn’t see Rumpelstiltskin’s face, but she could very clearly imagine what it must look like when he flourished his hands and answered, “Today’s a big day.”

“I don’t believe I owe you anything,” the man bit out, stepping forward and even though he towered over Rumpelstiltskin’s slight frame, the magician stepped forward with crackling hands.

“Trust me, dearie, everyone does,” the Dark One growled, and raised his hands.

“No, wait!” Belle called out, stumbling out of the carriage and tripping over the blanket to fall on her hands and knees upon stone and gravel with a loud huff. Not a moment later and hands were cradling Belle’s upper arms, easing her up off the ground and helping her stumble to her feet, Rumpelstiltskin dusting off her cloak in frantic little waves.

“Foolish girl,” he muttered without spite, untangling some of her curls that had caught in the golden roses. Belle was almost sure he was more concerned rather than annoyed, and that fueled the small amount of bravery. “It’s harder to keep you alive as a bride than it was as a maid.”

“Maid?”

The voice behind them made both Belle and Rumpelstiltskin turn, and Robin Hood stepped closer, squinting at Belle through the light mist. Without much thought, she rested her hand to Rumpelstiltskin’s chest, swallowing.

“You’re the one who let me go. From his dungeon,” the thief said, gesturing at the imp beside her, and Belle nodded hesitantly, biting her lip. He let out a sudden scoff, tucking his bow back over his shoulder. “Well I’m glad to see he hasn’t killed you, yet.”

“The same can’t be said for you,” Rumpelstiltskin replied snidely, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

Belle took his other hand behind both their cloaks and squeezed his fingers, hoping he might remember when she did the same before when he spared the thief’s life the first time. “We’re on our way through the forest to look for a holy man,” Belle said, lifting her chin. “To wed us.”

Robin Hood glanced from her face to the sorcerer’s many times before he broke into laughter. Belle felt a painful kind of anger bubble in her chest, and she wanted so badly to be able to strike the man. Instead, Rumpelstiltskin threw his voice out in a shivering, dangerous giggle, asking, “Doubt the lady’s choice?”

“I doubt it _was_ her choice,” Robin Hood answered, his smirk a handsome thing, until his voice went cold and his eyes colder. “Do you make it a habit of gangpressing your help into marriage?”

“ _I_ proposed to him,” Belle said suddenly, so loudly she could hear her echo in the woods, stepping around Rumpelstiltskin to glare up at the thief. That wiped the smirk off his face, and she fought to keep her own at bay. A wave of pride washed over her, even though her heart was hammering in her ears and she didn’t feel rightly connected to her body. “You can either honor the debt you owe me and let us pass, or- or you can retreat back into your rabbit holes and let us turn around. Which will it be?”

Robin Hood stared at her as if he didn’t know what she was, before he passed a hand in front of her face, squinting down at her. “Is she bewitched?”

Belle threw her hands up to bat his own away when Rumpelstiltskin suddenly took her by the shoulders and pulled her back, murmuring in her ear. “Belle, let’s go.”

“I don’t want to,” she nearly spit, glaring up at him. She didn’t know where her sudden annoyance had come from, but her shock to see the sorcerer looking almost cowed had her suddenly still. She reached up to touch his arm, tilting her head. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me,” Robin Hood said suddenly, and both imp and maiden flinched at his voice, but Belle turned to meet his gaze when Rumpelstiltskin could not. He didn’t look so very gloating as he did curious, stepping forward and lowering his voice. “Do you truly want to marry this creature?”

“Man,” Belle muttered, narrowing her eyes, feeling the sorcerer tug her back by a stray curl over her shoulder.

“Then I will help you-this once,” Robin Hood said, holding a finger up. He looked between them before calling over his shoulder, “Bring me the friar!”

“You do realize that he has to be able to officiate a legitimate wedding ceremony,” Rumpelstiltskin said, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Oh, there’s no one more qualified,” Robin Hood assured them, leaning against the carriage with a snort. “He used to be within the holy clerics guild.”

Belle tilted her head, her anger having disappated in her curiosity. “Why is he just a friar, then?”

Robin Hood tilted his thumb back, mouthing, “Liked the bottle too much.”

“Oh,” Belle turned to Rumpelstiltskin, her eyes going wide and found herself holding his hand with all the strength she had left in her. “I still don’t… I mean…” She looked down at herself, her damp cloak and blue skirts.

“I think I can procure something suitable,” Rumpelstiltskin hummed, stepping close so one of his boots stood between her two slippers, resting both hands on her waist and leaning close to whisper in her ear, “Consider it a wedding present.”

Belle felt a cold trickle all around her, like a fog cloaking her entire body in a swirl of purple. When it cleared, she stood in the middle of the cold, wet forest, bathed in the purest white silk she’d ever seen. Even the thieves were gazing at her as if she were a mirage, and Belle couldn’t help but stare at the pleated, draping organza skirt and the glittering bodice made of the most intricate lace that fell just off her shoulders. Belle gulped, her arms trembling. She was afraid to even move, as if it were all made of spiders’ webs.

“Isn’t…” her hoarse voice cracked, and she could only give a soft, helpless little laugh, shaking her head. “…isn’t it tradition, to not see me before our vows?”

“If there’s anything that I stand for, dearie,” Rumpelstiltskin said, and when she looked up, she covered her mouth in stunned silence to find his eyes closed. He seemed to sense her astonishment, and smirked. “It’s tradition.”


End file.
